


Jul

by AnUnhealthyDoseOfAngst



Series: Ivar x Ylva [5]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Christmas oneshot, F/M, Fluff, Keeping promises oneshot, Sexually Frustrated Parents, Smut, Vikings modern au, dad!Ivar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 21:15:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13349661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnUnhealthyDoseOfAngst/pseuds/AnUnhealthyDoseOfAngst
Summary: A Keeping Promises oneshot, modern au, where the family is celebrating Dagný's first Christmas. Ivar and Ylva manage to get some alone time.Please note that for all of my works that have sexual content, all relevant characters are at least 18 years old. If they are not yet 18 in canon, I age them up.





	Jul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brightlycoloredteacups](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightlycoloredteacups/gifts).



> Jul - Christmas  
> God jul - Merry Christmas  
> Hjärtat - Sweetheart  
> Älskade - Beloved  
> Käresta - Dearest

Ylva has to contain a laughter at the sight of Floki in a Santa costume; the pillow that he’s stuffed under his shirt is poking out and the beard is askew.

“Ho, ho, ho! Are there any kind children here?” Floki calls out as he shuffles his way inside the living room, woven bag slung over one shoulder. Dagný stirs in her mother’s arms. Next to them, Ivar is capturing every second of it with his camera. Santa sinks into a chair opposite to them, with no small amount of huffing and puffing. Ylva fights back another giggle as she hears Floki curse under his breath about how warm the costume is. He reaches for the first gift and reads the label out loud.

“God jul, Dagný.” Helga looks at the girl, gasping excitedly. Dagný watches with wide eyes as Santa holds the present out for her. Tiny fingers grasp at the decorative bow, a confused gurgle leaving her. Ylva holds the package as her daughter continues exploring the colourful wrapping paper.

“Merry Christmas, hjärtat.” Ylva cranes her neck to place a kiss at the girl’s cheek. When she looks up again, she swears she can see a tear at the corner of Floki’s eye. She wonders if he is thinking about Angrboda’s first Christmas.

“What more do you have in the bag, Santa?” Helga asks. Santa snaps out of his trance and sticks a hand down the bag.

“Here's one for-” Floki pauses, squinting at the letters “-Ivar.” Ylva recognizes the present as the one she got for her husband and she glances at him over her shoulder.

“You sit and rest, Santa, I’ll give him this.” Helga reaches for the box but Floki swiftly moves it to his other hand, keeping it out of reach.

“Oh, I don’t know if he’s deserved any presents this year,” He sighs “I’ve heard he’s been a very bad boy.”

 

 

Ylva pulls her hair back, turning her head this way and that to show off the earrings that Ivar got her.

“Diamonds?” Helga says with a shake of her head “Ivar, you’ve been married for less than two years. Don’t you know you’re supposed to build up to these kinds of gifts?” He smirks, tracing his wife’s earlobe with one finger

“Think of it as...an advance for our 60th anniversary. Because I know we'll make it to that day.”  Warmth creeps up Ylva’s cheeks as Ivar presses a kiss to her knuckles. On the floor, Dagný holds her activity cube out, calling for Floki’s attention with a squeal.

“Oh, very nice.” He says with an exaggerated nod as he settles next to her on the carpet. She blows raspberries in response, small fingers exploring the different textures of her cube. They spend another few hours enjoying the Christmas candies and glögg, taking picture after picture of Dagný playing with her toys. Even from her seat at the far end of the table Ylva can see Dagny’s eyelids grow heavy where the baby is resting on Floki’s lap. She looks at Ivar, seeing him nod in agreement with her silent message. Ylva takes her cane and motions to get up.

“I think it’s time for a certain little lady to go to bed.” Ivar claps Floki on the shoulder.

“Thank you for the gifts, old man. Now give me my princess.”

“Actually,” Helga cuts in “we have another present for you. If you want it.” Ylva instantly opens her mouth to protest. The presents they’ve already received are more than enough. Dagný practically has an entire new wardrobe, in addition to all the new toys, not to mention how much Floki has helped out with fixing the house ever since they moved in. He immediately drowns out her protests.

“We were thinking that Dagný could stay with us in the guestroom tonight,” Floki says, gently bouncing the baby on his lap “and we will get her ready in the morning so that you can sleep in.” Ylva’s first instinct is to fall to her knees and thank them but not a second later her cheeks heat up with shame. Was she going to pass her baby off to someone else for the night? Especially since their girl is so prone to sickness. She shares a look with Ivar, finding that he looks as guilty as she feels. They will have to put off being intimate with each other for another few weeks. Helga seems to sense what they are thinking because she steps forward to take Ylva’s hand.

“Parents are allowed to need time to themselves. It doesn’t mean you’re not taking good care of her.” Ylva hesitates, glancing at her daughter, then turns and pulls Helga into a hug.

 

 

When the door closes behind them, Ivar hurries ahead to park his wheelchair next to their bed. Ylva stops in front of the mirror to remove her earrings but is soon interrupted by a growl. Ivar has already hauled himself onto the bed and is staring impatiently. She sighs, turning back to the mirror.

“I’m not losing my new earrings in the sheets, husband.” He huffs in response but sets to unbuttoning his shirt. Ylva joins him as quickly as she can, leaving her cane leaning against the bed as she crawls towards him on all four. Ivar spreads his arms, welcoming her to perch on top of him. She’s barely settled when his hands disappear up her dress, breath suddenly hitching in his throat at the feeling of unfamiliar straps running along her skin. He pauses and Ylva smirks against the corner of his mouth. Then he’s scrambling, tugging at the zipper at the back of her dress in his eagerness to have her naked. Ivar’s breath grows more and more strained as he tears at her clothing. She has to soothe him, make calming noises and pet his broad shoulders until he’s regained enough control of his digits to unzip it. The dress ends up at the foot of the bed and Ivar quickly moves on to admiring her underwear. He hooks one finger around a garter belt strap. He gives it a tug, clearing his throat.

“This is new.” He whispers hoarsely. Ylva squirms on top of him, putting on a show.

“Mhm. Am I pretty, husband?” She purrs. It is different from what he usually buys for her, or asks her to buy, but the colour at least is familiar.

“Very pretty,” He assures her, licking his lips “but how do I get you out of it? I’m not a patient man, certainly not right now.” She giggles at that. Ylva guides his hands to her back, urging him to start as usual by unclasping her bra. Once it’s been tossed aside Ivar reaches up to give each nipple a pinch.

“Try not to rip anything. We have plenty of time, älskade.” She says as he frees the stockings from the straps, something that he does with a look of fierce concentration, then slides them down her legs. Ivar seems more confident now, discarding of the belt and panties in a few smooth motions. He leans back to watch as Ylva rolls her hips over him. There’s a dark spot at the front of his pants that continue to grow as she grinds her naked sex against him. He gives up a content sigh then grabs at her waist, stopping her.

“Do you hear that?” He asks in a gravelly voice. Ylva does as he bids, listening intently but hearing nothing. Eventually, she furrows her brow. The confusion must be plain on her face because Ivar speaks up.

“Silence,” He cups Ylva’s cheeks in calloused palms “Gods know I love our baby but she snores.”

“No more than you do.” Ylva replies as she tugs his pants down his legs. He’s clearly basking in her attention, writhing on the mattress with a smile on his face that makes Ylva’s heart swell. She takes her time exploring every last inch of skin under his halfway unbuttoned shirt. Too much time, evidently. A deep rumble sounds from Ivar’s chest.

“Enough.” He says and tries to urge her on with a smack on her ass. She smiles slyly, slipping out of his grip before he can trap her in his arms. Ylva shuffles further down in bed until she can nose along the bulge in his underwear.

“What are- ah!” Ivar’s words turn into a moan. Her lips have zeroed in on his tip, sucking at it through the cotton. The feeling of his fingers tangling in her hair only encourages her.

“Take it out.” Ivar hisses from between grit teeth. Ylva stops just long enough to get out a few words.

“Take this off.” She counters, tugging at his shirt. He grunts but does tend to the remaining buttons. Ylva looks up just in time to see him throw the shirt aside and can’t stop herself from mewling at the sight. He looks at her expectantly. She flashes him a smile, pulling his boxer briefs down and over his feet, then settles between his legs. He’s not fully erect yet but she intends to change that. Wrapping her fingers around the foreskin, she pulls it back to expose the tip and give it a quick lick. Ivar’s grip tightens.

“No teasing.” He whines while tugging at her hair. Fortunately for him, Ylva is in no mood to drag things out. She nuzzles at Ivar’s stomach, one fist pumping his cock another few times until he’s ready for her. As soon as she releases it to climb further up Ivar’s hands shift to grab at her hips. With the blink of an eye, Ylva finds herself pinned to the mattress with Ivar hovering above her. Rough fingers begin to trace her features and she lets out a content sigh. The way he looks at her has her thinking that she will melt into a puddle.

“Sweet thing…” Ivar murmurs while wriggling his way between her legs. At the feeling of his tip prodding at her entrance, Ylva lifts her head up in search of his lips. He reciprocates, muffling her moan as he slips inside her cunt.

“I’ll go slow, wife.” Normally she’d object to that but now she eagerly agrees. Ivar gives one careful thrust and Ylva whimpers. As he continues, her hands clutch at his hips hard enough to leave crescent marks. Ivar makes good on his promise to go slow, keeping a pace that has her feeling warm all over yet doesn’t push her over the edge. It isn’t until his fingers seek out her clit that Ylva feels herself teetering at the brink. He claims her mouth in another kiss, simultaneously pinching the nub, and she sobs into his mouth as her body tenses. Her legs lock even tighter around Ivar’s waist, hips bucking up against him as she rides out her orgasm. Ivar keeps his steady pace until she slumps under him, then buries his head at her shoulder, rutting into her until his own release tears through him. Afterwards Ivar lies on his side and grabs at Ylva, grunting for her to come closer. She presses her back to his chest. They catch their breath, Ivar’s fingers wandering over her scalp and waist.

“I think,” She says after a long silence “that tomorrow I’m going to wake you up in that special way you like so much.” She accentuates her words by squirming against him. Ivar huffs. He moves the hand at her waist to cup her sex instead.

“Not if I wake you up first, käresta.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ylva's underwear


End file.
